Vacation: Round 2

Sunday August 31st, 2014.

Cusco, Peru / Lima, Peru / Quito, Ecuador

Its 5:30am and time to get up for our flight to Ecuador. Time of day no longer matters though. Our standards have changed and now all wake up calls past 3am are acceptable.

We take an overpriced cab to the small airport in Cusco and prepare for our flight to Ecuador (via Lima). The entire flight is long (a little over 5 hours), but we are not hiking, so we are both happy.

After a quick layover in Lima, we land in Quito, Ecuador for Vacation: Round 2. Prior to departing the US I had booked a driver through our hotel to meet us at the airport. We anxiously search the arrivals area, but we have been stood up (its okay, we are getting used to it). We find a taxi driver and explain where our hotel is located and he happily obliges us. Cab rides from the airport in Quito are a flat fee of $20USD. We are very surprised when the cab ride takes almost an hour to get to our destination (Wait a minute - did we just scam the cabbie?!?).

We are staying in a hip part of town and are ready to check in and explore. Our hotel is really more of a hostel and the desk attendant is asleep on a couch in the lobby when we arrive (its 1pm, also known as, a good time to take a nap). We begin to explain that we are checking in when it becomes clear that there is a major communication barrier. I am speaking what I thought was Spanish, but I am making no sense, whatsoever. Laura, is faring slightly better than me, but it’s a struggle. Many hand signals and overzealous facial expressions eventually earn us a key to our room and two shower towels. After dumping our gear in our very large room, we head across the street to a super cute pub/restaurant.

I am officially ready for my first post-trail alcoholic beverage. I order a Heineken and Laura gets a pina colda. I feel the effects of my beverage quiet quickly (we are still 9200 feet above sea level) and unexpectedly begin to laugh-cry into my beer. They are tears of joy – I am so happy to be out of Peru!

After our celebratory drinks, we take a short walk to the historical center of town. Central Quito is actually one of the UNESCO world heritage sites. It is beautiful, but, honestly, it looks a lot like San Francisco (but with more prostitutes). After a nice walk, and some silly, drunken photography, we head back to our part of town, where all of the bars and restaurants are located.

So far Quito is awesome. It’s beautiful, the streets all have sidewalks, it doesn’t stink… clearly society here is much more advanced than Peru. For this reason we are looking forward to a really good meal as we are both (almost) ready to start eating again.  

Unfortunately, the food here disappoints, severely. After reviewing an endless row of menus we go into a small diner that is playing 80s music videos on at least 5 different big screen TVs. It is way cute and we are looking forward to eating when the server informs us that they do not have any veggie burgers and their vegetarian options are extremely limited. Bummer. The search for dinner continues.

Eventually we end up at an Ecuadorian version of TGI Fridays. It’s not ideal but both of our stomachs are still hurting pretty badly and they have potato skins on the menu, so we take a seat. We split a big sampler platter, which is pretty bad. It has potato skins (with un-melted cheese on top), chips, cheese sticks, and few other snacks. We are both offended by the potato skins, but it doesn’t stop us from eating them all. After dinner we go out for a drink. Neither of us wants to, but its habit.

Eventually we end up back at our hotel room. I take a long, super-hot shower and, finally, start to recover from Vacation: Round 1. We fall asleep relatively early and will have to wake up early to get a cab back to the airport for our flight to the Galapagos Islands.

Tomorrow we will finally get back to sea level!   

I will have the Doritos and orange juice, thank you.

Friday August 29th, 2014

Inca Trail, Machu Picchu and Cusco, Peru

At 3am I are waking up to begin the final hike to Machu Picchu. After nearly 7 hours of sleep, my mental and physical state is slightly improved. I manage to drag myself out of my sleeping bag and over to the breakfast tent.

When I arrive, the porters are serving pancakes. I feel hungry but my mouth is still very dry. I attempt a few bites but am unable to swallow. I offer my plate to my trail friends and the food is gone before I can complete my sentence.

After breakfast, we dutifully join the group at the line for the last checkpoint. Our guides are near the front and call for us to pass the others so that we can stand with the group. The other hikers do not like this, but Dad is pushy, so we eventually end up near the front. It is still dark and cold outside. And now it’s starting to rain. We have to wait nearly an hour for the checkpoint to open up before we can proceed.

There are conflicting stories as to why the group had to line up at 4am when the checkpoint doesn’t open until 5. One possibility is that our guides wanted to be at the front of the line; another reason is that the porters have to pack up the gear, run down a hill, and catch an early train back to Ollantaytambo. Neither of these reasons is good. I am grouchy.

Once the checkpoint opens up, we shuffle through and are on the final leg of the hike. The guides are going fast and about half of the group cannot keep up. Other groups are passing. It is a race to the ancient ruins and our group is definitely losing.

Eventually, Dad comes to terms with the fact that his group is the slowest and stops to rest while everyone else passes by.

It’s still dark and very misty but the sky is starting to light up and the views are incredible. I am still fighting some pretty nasty stomach cramps and exhaustion, but it’s hard to not get caught up in the excitement of this portion of the hike. 

  

After an hour or so we eventually arrive at the sun gate, an Incan ruin that overlooks all of Machu Picchu and sometimes directs the sunlight into one of the ancient temples below. There is no sunlight now, only waves of fog intermittently allowing spectacular views of the ruins below. I use this opportunity to sit and rest. I really do feel terrible, but we are very close to the end and I am focusing on keeping it together. After very many pictures, the group continues the hike down to Machu Picchu. Eventually, we arrive. Whew.

Raul tells the group to take 30 minutes to use the restrooms and grab a snack from the café. I am overly excited to see a “civilized toilet” with running water. Next, I attack the café. Exhausted and starving, I am unable to make a rational food decision. I end up with Doritos and orange juice for breakfast. For the first time since yesterday morning, I am able to chew and swallow food. My mouth finally works again.

Machu Picchu is really, really big. Things are often smaller in real life – Machu Picchu is much bigger. I was surprised to see an abundance of guards and free-range llamas.

Eventually, we meet our guides and the rest of our group at the entrance. We are surprised to see Dad wearing a clean set of clothes with slicked-back hair. I wonder if he carried that hair gel this whole time? He definitely looks sleazy; it’s weird and funny.

Raul walks us around some of the ruins and explains how Machu Picchu was always known to the indigenous people and was only found by American explorers when a little kid accidentally spilled the beans. He also explains how a lot of the buildings were used and then attempts to field several questions for which he does not have answers. After the tour, Laura and I wander around for another 45 minutes or so. We look at a very old, functional sundial, pet the llamas, and intermittently run into our trail friends. It feels strange to see them in public.

Around lunchtime, we hop on the bus to Aguas Calientes, where the group will have a final lunch together. The seats on the bus are the most comfortable seats, ever. I immediately fall asleep and pray that we never make it to Aguas Calientes. Of course, we are there in a mere 30 minutes.

We quickly find the designated lunch restaurant and sit at a long table. I order a small cheese pizza and Sprite. Raul gives each member of the group a certificate and a hug.

After lunch, Laura and I are faced with an important decision – (A) spend the afternoon in Aguas Calientes and take the chartered bus back or (B) utilize public transit and get back a few hours earlier. I have some anxiety about Peruvian public transit, but it is ultimately overcome by an intense desire to get back to the hotel. 

Getting a train to Ollantaytambo is a piece of cake. The train is wonderful and I drift off to sleep again. Eventually, we end up in Ollytaytamba. It is after dark and we really have no plan to get from here to Cusco. Luckily, Laura, who is better at this than me, has befriended a fellow traveler and convinced him to let us tag along. As we all exit the train, Laura follows him, and I follow Laura. We end up in a dark parking lot. A cab driver is yelling at me to put my bag somewhere and my body somewhere else. I don’t really understand, but our new train friend translates. Eventually, I sit down in the cab/van and try to relax. We are on the last leg of our journey back to Cusco.

At this point, my stomach is really starting to cramp up again. I am getting waves of pain coupled with hot flashes every few minutes. The cabbie’s driving abilities are not helping and right when we can start to see the lights of Cusco, we are stopped on a one-lane street due to a car accident. No one is clearing the road. I mentally prepare to be here all night.

After some amount of time, the van starts moving again and, eventually, we end up in the town square at Cusco. I feel like death.

In a total daze, I follow Laura around a few corners and up a hill and somehow end up at our hotel. It is late and we have to ring the doorbell.

One of the staff lets us in and shows us to the storage room where our bags are stored on the top shelf. We get them down and trudge up a flight of steps to our room for the evening. We have an early flight in the morning and still need to pack and shower. While Laura goes to the hotel café to order wine for dinner I take a shower but try to be quick because the water is already not very hot. I somehow get all of my belongings in order and lay down for 5 hours of badly needed sleep.

Manners

Thursday August 28th, 2014.

Inca Trail, Peru

At 4:30am I am awakened by Mom and hot coffee. I feel very nauseous but accept and drink the coffee out of habit. I am moving very slow, but eventually, get up and shuffle over to the breakfast tent with Laura. We are served a cup of watery quinoa. Plates are being passed down the table consisting of one pancake and two pieces of shriveled sausage. I ask for a plate without sausage but Raul says no. I am exhausted and officially sick. I take the breakfast plate and try real hard not to puke on it. One of my trail friends takes my sausage and I slowly chew pieces of the pancake which turn into little balls of salvia and carbs. I have to drink water in order to swallow and only make it through one-third of a pancake. 

After breakfast, the group gathers near the entrance of the campsite. I suddenly realize that Laura and I have not spoken to each other all morning. She looks how I feel. Laura announces that she feels sick. I can only nod in agreement.

The day starts with a sufficient hill. It’s not vertical (like yesterday’s), so the guides call it Inca-flat. I am not amused. 

About 30 minutes into the day, I stop at the side of the trail to let some porters pass by. They smell pretty bad and Laura loses it, and by “it” I mean her breakfast. She pukes several times on the side of the path. I want to help but I am fighting a strong gag reflex. A few trail friends help Laura by providing her with water and some electrolytes. Wordlessly, we continue up the hill.

For the rest of the morning, we visit a few pre-Incan ruin sites. I spend the entire time trying to will myself to be less sick. The trail is beautiful, but I can barely keep it together. If I were at home, I would call into work, wear pajamas all day and have grape-flavored Gatorade delivered to my door.  

After a morning of hiking, we finally arrive at the lunch site. I feel hungry and know that I need some calories. I optimistically plop down in the center of the table in our lunch tent. Lunch is served and Laura is out of the tent within seconds. I want to run out too, but my dumb manners have me glued to my chair. After staring at my plate for nearly five minutes, I finally have to leave. I am simultaneously very hungry and very sick.   

Laura and I sit on a hill overlooking the bathroom. We are both too weak and too hungry to move to a better spot. We sit in silence, despondently gazing at the Peruvian toilet house. It doesn’t take long before Mom and Dad come to check on us. I try to convince them that I am very grateful for the food but just need to sit this one out. I try to manage a fake smile, hoping that in Spanish it will translate into a real smile. No such luck, Dad decides that he is going to be helpful.

First, he brings us tea that tastes like dirt and socks. I sit and quietly drink the tea. It is terrible. Next Raul begins to rub his hands in a substance that he has retrieved from his bag. I think it may be soap, though deep down inside I know that it’s not. He tells me to breathe deeply and then, with no warning whatsoever, he shoves his hands around my face and demands that I keep breathing. Okay. I breathe. His hands smell like a menthol cough drop, mixed with sweat. I am still stunned when he removes them and asks if I’m better. For a split second I sit like a deer-in-headlights before I reply, “Yes”, Much better.”

Raul finally placated, turns to Laura. 

I watch my friend relive my experience and find a tiny resemblance of joy deep in my soul. I am so incredibly miserable, but still, I know that this moment in time can never be relived. 

Finally, lunch is over and we are back on the trail. I am starving but completely averse to food. It is a very strange feeling, to have my stomach scream for food but my mouth refuses it. I have no choice but to focus on moving forward. 

At this point, it really hits me that the only way to get off of this trail is to walk to the end. The Inca trail has no evacuation routes, no clinics, and no doctors. Furthermore, the porters have our tent, so there is no sleeping until we get to the campsite. Even if I was 10 times sicker, I would still have to walk to the end of the trail.

5 minutes after coming to terms with my situation, a group of porters trots past, carrying one of our trail friends on a stretcher. It turns out there is one other way to get off of this trail. Next, I see her worried husband walking quickly, trying to keep up with the porters. “She’ll be fine.” He flashes an obviously fake smile.

Determined to not be carried to the end, I decide to put together a plan. I dedicate all of my energy to putting one foot in front of the other and use all available mental strength to visualize success. I would like to have a meltdown, but know that I do not have the energy to spare.

By early evening Laura and I are officially at the back of the group. There are only a few porters behind us. They are obligated to stay at the back of the group. I guess they are there to prevent us from laying down and going to sleep in the middle of the trail. They are rushing us as it quickly becomes dark outside. 

Just after dark, we finally enter camp. Dad points out a tent and mumbles that a porter will bring our bags. I crawl into the tent, sit on the cold ground and begin to pray that the porter will actually bring my bag. I cannot get up and go look for it in the dark and do not want to call for anyone.

Eventually, my bag is brought to the tent. Without moving my legs, I somehow pull my sleeping pad and sleeping bag out and wiggle into it. I have to pee horrendously but need to sleep more. I take a calculated risk and go to sleep.  

An hour or so later, Dad tries to convince me to go to dinner, but I cannot. Later he insists that I attend the tipping ceremony for the porters. Laura, a saint of saints, takes my money and attends on my behalf.

I do not move until the next morning. Finally, I am asleep.  

Slow and steady wins the race.

Thursday August 28th, 2014

Inca Trail, Peru

It’s 4:45am Central Time. Darwin, aka Mom, is knocking on our tent door. He comes bearing hot coffee. I already love him. 

As it was explained during last night’s trail briefing, Day 2 is the hardest day by a landslide. It is almost entirely uphill with a very steep descent at the end. The group will start at 9800 feet, summit at 14000 feet, and descend to 12,000 feet. It’s not a long hike, but it is steep. Most of the trail will take place on original Inca stairs; they will be historical, magical, beautiful, wobbly, slippery, and uneven. I know that I’m in for a challenge.

The first half of the day is 2 big uphill pushes. The air is thin and I am tired. Laura and I pace ourselves and come up with a plan that involves moving at a very slow pace but only stopping every 15 minutes for a quick sip of water. This methodology gets us to the first checkpoint near the front of the pack. I can’t believe we are not the slowest ones! This is going so much better than I thought. The next big push is similar in length but definitely steeper. We continue with the plan of moving really slow and get to the lunch site in the middle of the pack. Lunch is slightly delayed, but I am feeling happy and chat enthusiastically with my new trail friends.

After lunch, we have one more uphill push to the summit of Warmiwanuska, which is also known as Dead Woman’s pass. This will be the highest point on the trail and the farthest above sea level that I’ve ever been. I am ready to make this happen. Well, my brain is ready, my legs and lungs are not so keen.

I start to drag on this part of the trail. The altitude finally hits me. This is what I was afraid of. Over the course of nearly 500 feet, the entire group passes us by. We are taking each step extremely slowly and only 20 paces from the top I have to stop. I want to push forward but physically can not. Laura waits with me. I start to tear up because she is so nice. It takes almost 10 minutes for the two of us to make it to the top. 

Once we arrive, it’s extremely windy and foggy. I want to rest, but it’s very uncomfortable, plus I am starting to worry about time, we still need to descend 2000 feet before dinner and I can barely breathe or move my legs. 

This side of the mountain has drastically different conditions. The fog continues and a light rain coats the large rocks, which act as steps. I am extremely grateful for my hiking poles and have no idea how anyone could navigate these slippery rocks without them. Even though I am feeling the constant stress of slipping, I’m still relieved to no longer be hiking uphill. Laura is struggling though. Her knees hurt and she is moving slow. I guess that one woman’s downhill is another’s uphill. 

We arrive at the campsite about half an hour before tea time. We are not at the end of the pack but have definitely lost momentum. We rest briefly and then decide to pull it together for tea and popcorn. I really don’t want to go, but the guides are calling us and I’m not sure how to say no. Once we sit down with the rest of our trail mates, we learn that at least half of them slipped and fell at some point during the descent. I enjoy the commiseration of the group. 

At dinner, I am totally exhausted and have no appetite at all. I take one serving of everything and methodically chew and swallow it all bite by bite. It feels like work as I give myself a miniature pep talk for each bite. 

When I finally lay down to go to sleep, all of my muscles are screaming for relief. I can not get comfortable and lay awake for most of the night.

Plop.

Wednesday August 27th, 2014.

Cusco, Peru and Inca Trail, Peru

It’s 4:45am and my alarm is going off. I wearily take note that is it 2:45am back home in Los Angeles. For the second night in a row, I could not sleep.

I feel groggy, which is soon overtaken by a mild sense of fear. I am about to embark on a 4-day hike in the middle of Peru. I wonder about access to medical attention in the middle of the Andes and whether or not I’ll be able to understand the guides. I worry about my ability to keep up with the group, after all, I have not practiced as much as Laura. 

To complicate matters, I still feel as if I am gasping for air, my throat and nose continue to burn and now my head has starting pounding. 

I heavily consider staying in the hotel. It’s the cowardly thing to do, but going onto this trail could literally kill me. I want to be brave but I keep imagining scenarios where I get hurt or become sick and no one is there to help. We are in a remote part of the world that lacks the emergency services of the US. As I brush my teeth, I feel difficulty breathing. 

As I finish getting ready for the day, my anxiety is mounting. I can not move forward but I also can not quit. After all, I’ve paid for this trek, I’ve promised my friend and I’ve promised myself. Eventually, the fear of being a quitter overtakes the fear of hardship. I rationalize that death is very unlikely and anything short of death makes this trip worth it. 

I am still not sure about my decision when the bus arrives at exactly 5:30am. In a daze, I give my bag to a porter and are directed onto the bus. The doors close and we are officially on our way. 

The bus is filled with a mix of guides, porters, and very sleepy hikers. The ride is quiet all the way to Ollytaytambo. This is the last taste of civilization before the Inca Trailhead. The bus stops here for breakfast. We are directed into the only open store in the town square. It is 2 stories tall and the bottom floor looks like a mix of a 711 and REI. We follow the group up a narrow stairwell and into a small cafe. The group takes up the entire dining room. We sit at a large table with 4 other hikers. 2 are from California and 2 are from Australia. 

After breakfast, Laura and I go on a hunt for the infamous coca leaves. These are dried leaves from the coca plant and are only legal in Peru. They are supposed to give you energy and help to combat altitude sickness. I buy 2 bags and Laura buys some coca toffee for good measure. We do a quick lap of the town square and then get back on the bus.

The drive from Ollytaytambo to the trailhead is one of the top 5 most terrifying bus experiences in my life. It takes place on a dirt road about one inch from an enormous rushing river. I have to focus my eyes on the back of the seat in front of me. 

By 9am, we are officially at the Inca Trail. The group unloads from the bus and stands in the parking lot while last-minute preparations are made. I make one last trip to what the guide refers to as a “civilized toilet”. I notice that the air is a lot less dry and am feeling more comfortable than in Cusco… maybe this will go smoothly after all.

Soon the group is gathered at the famous trailhead. I think that we are officially hiking the trail, but only 5 minutes later we stop at a passport checkpoint. I dutifully stand in line and eventually receive the coveted Inca Trail passport stamp. 

Now it’s time to start hiking. Roughly, 40 minutes later, the group stops at a scenic overlook for photos, pack adjustments, and introductions. I take a look around and find a cluster of shacks where hikers can buy water, Gatorade, and bandanas. Somewhere in between pack adjustments and photos Laura’s shoe literally falls apart. We were sitting on a bench, Laura was crossing one leg over the other when plop. The sole falls off of her shoe. Everyone is dumbfounded; even the guides. 

It takes an uncomfortable amount of time for anyone to come up with a plan. I take a crack at it first - Duct Tape. This proves to be a stupid plan because A – there is no way that anyone could hike this trail with duct-taped shoes (in my defense, I don’t know this yet) and B – no one has duct tape. The guide has a plan too – take the shoes of the 10-year-old boy who is working the Gatorade stand. Needless to say, this plan does not work either. On to Plan C. 

Now that it’s officially time for introductions, the lead guide speaks to the group for the first time. “Hello friends, our friend Laura needs some shoes. Does anyone have shoes?” Strangely, this turns out to be a good plan because someone actually does have an extra pair of shoes, well they are really more like a pair of slippers. Nonetheless, Laura figures out how to get them to stay on her feet and the group is finally onto introductions.

There are 12 hikers in our group. The guides introduce themselves. There is Raul, who says that you can call him Dad and there is Darwin, who says that you can call him Mom. This is kind of weird, but we go with it. 

After introductions, Mom approaches with a new plan for Laura’s shoes. He will send one of the porters back to town to buy her a new pair of shoes and return them by this evening. She has to pay around 50 soles for this service. I’m sure that she would have paid much more. 

Now that everyone has been introduced and everyone has shoes, we can really start the hike.

Day 1 of the Inca Trail is easy. There are some little hills and the sun is brutal, but it’s basically like hiking in Griffith Park. I use this time to soak in the fact that I am really on the Inca Trail. The group stops for lunch at a cute little farm. The porters set up a dining tent, complete with a table and chairs, and proceed to serve a three-course meal. I am still not very hungry but am very appreciative of the service. 

After lunch, we hike for a few more hours until we arrive at the campsite for the night. Our tent is already set up and our duffle bags are laid out neatly on a tarp. We have time for a brief rest in the tent and then are called into the dining tent for tea and cookies. Tea is followed by another 3-course meal and a briefing for the next day. 

This is going to work out well. My nose and throat have stopped burning and I no longer feel a cold coming on. I am feeling happily exhausted and assured that tonight will be the night that I can finally get some sleep.

Fleece-lined, llama-print leggings and a large purple scarf… yep, that’s what I’ll need when I return to LA.

Tuesday August 26th, 2014.
Cusco, Peru

Today is a full day in Cusco. When hiking the Inca Trail, Peru Treks requires that you arrive in Cusco at least 2 days prior to your trek departure for the purposes of acclimating to the altitude. Cusco is 3400 meters above sea level (no big deal, right?). As it turns out 3400 meters is 11,150 feet; twice the altitude of Denver (yikes!). I'm running on minimal sleep and am starting to feel a cold coming on. We are T – 20 hours away from the start of the Inca Trail… all I can do at this point is drink plenty of water and avoid diuretics (like coffee and beer).

We start the day off with coffee and 2 American breakfasts. The café is adorable and we sit on a couch and eat our breakfast off of an old coffee table (why does everywhere in Cusco seem to loosely resemble my living room?). In the background a very dramatic Peruvian soap opera plays on an old CRT television; it has something to do with a beautiful woman and a magical statue of Jesus.

After breakfast, we are both drawn to the colorful, fragrant (for the most part), bustling, outdoor Cusco markets. Laura needs to buy some gifts for her family and I need to buy one of everything for myself. We start ambling through the maze of the central market. I am moving at least twice as fast as Laura so we decide to split up for a little bit. Once I’m off on my own I realize that I Freaking Love This Market.

Let the record show that I once spent 3 weeks in Western Europe and left with only a cigarette lighter (which was unceremoniously confiscated at the airport). I do not shop. Correction, I did not shop until now. Over the course of my mid-morning shopping spree, I was able to secure an alpaca sweater, a big purple scarf, fleece-lined alpaca-print leggings, and a bright red Machu Picchu baseball cap. To my surprise (and delight) everything in Cusco is 20 soles (roughly $7-8 USD). Deep down inside I know this is a negotiating starting point, but I don’t care, I happily shell out 20 after 20 for my Cusco spoils.

Later when Laura and I meet up we compare our results. Laura, who also doesn't shop, has purchased a large blanket, a wooden bowl and spoon, and some crazy wool socks. On our way back to the main square we are confronted with an indigenous woman (in full costume) and her baby alpaca. This is clearly a defining life moment for Laura (I am just happy to see where my new sweater came from). Regardless, I do not waste the opportunity to coo over the baby animal as well as take plenty of pictures (in 5 hours' time one of them will become Laura’s new FB photo).

From here we wander back to the main square, find a nice place to sit, and order some of Cusco’s finest beer (Cusco beer, the only kind they have). We also order a few appetizers for fun. Amongst these is my second favorite food on the trip – the Cusco salad. This is a bean salad with huge chunks of avocado, chopped greens, raw onions, unidentified herbs, and a light vinaigrette. It's delicious (even though my appetite is totally shot).

After a lazy afternoon of people watching and ambling in and out of strange and colorful shops, we head back to our hotel to change into warmer clothes and update our Instagram/Facebook feeds with our many photos from the day.

For dinner, we decide to “carb-up" for our big hike (my whole life I've been secretly looking for a reason to carb up!). To this end, we go to a nice restaurant and I order my first veggie pasta of the trip. It is good and I’m starting to think that Laura may be on to something... I also have a nice glass of South American wine (after tonight nice wine will be hard to come by).

After dinner, we go back to the “wine and couch bar” and are sad because we know it’s the last time we will ever be there. We are also happy though; tomorrow is Day 1 of the Inca Trail!  

Cusco Red, Cusco White, and Cusco Black

Monday, August 25th, 2014

Lima, Peru and Cusco, Peru

It’s 6am and my alarm is going off. We got close to a good night’s sleep and will be flying to Cusco soon. The hotel calls us a cab to get back to the airport. The cost is literally half of what it took to get to the hotel. At one point the driver reaches over you to lock the doors when he gets stuck in traffic in a particularly populated part of town. Central Lima is not a nice place. 

In the morning light, the airport looks much less foreboding. We quickly check into our flight, find a crowded café and sit at the bar to order breakfast. Laura orders an American Breakfast and I get creative by ordering an empanada and a tamale. The empanada is delicious, but the tamale is weird and marks a definitive decline in my food experience. Nonetheless, I am happy that I pushed my limits.

Next, we go through security. I am forced to throw out my bottled water and immediately have anxiety about it. The security area has a bin for confiscated items which includes a pair of handcuffs and a rolling pin. I think this may be funny on purpose but are not totally sure. I dutifully follow instructions and eventually board our flight.

We land in Cusco around 11:30am. Laura and I excitedly look for our driver to the hotel, but, again, no one shows. Eventually, we succumb to an eager cab driver and agree on a price. Minutes later, the driver stops at a pay booth and we are asked to pay an additional fee to leave the airport. 10 minutes later we arrive at the hotel. 

As we take a look around and start to settle in, I am immediately aware of the air. It is very dry and I start to develop a low grade of panic that there is not enough oxygen. I am all of sudden hyper-aware of my breathing while noticing that my mouth and nose feel very dry. In fact, my nose and lips are starting to burn. Additionally, it feels like I have to pee every hour. 

We are at 11,000 feet above sea level. This is the highest elevation that I’ve ever been.

Eventually, we set out to find the office of the Inca Trail tour company so that we can check-in and get final instructions for the hike. After only a few wrong turns, we find Peru Treks. There is a sign on the door, announcing that they are closed until 3pm. 

While neither of us feel hungry at all, we decide that it must be a good time to eat. Laura points out that eating is key to acclimation. I try to order a veggie burger, but are brought an actual burger. This is fine too, it’s what I actually wanted. The cafe is mostly open-air and the cool breeze provides a welcome contrast to the persistent sun.  

Around 3pm we return to Peru Treks and pay our final balance in unadulterated $20 dollar bills. One of Laura's twenties looks suspect and she has to dig around for alternate bills. They are not kidding when they ask for undamaged bills. Eventually, both payments are accepted. Next, we are directed into what looks like a living room with 2 other groups for the final orientation. This is where we meet a nice couple from Australia; they will be part of the trek and, ultimately, our new friends on social media. The orientation is a total blur. I have no idea what was said, except that we need to be ready to be picked up by the bus by 5:30am on Wednesday. It is early, but that’s okay.

After orientation, we are not sure what to do next. We go into auto-pilot, by finding a balcony and drinking beer. I know that drinking beer is bad for acclimation, but it’s vacation and balcony-beer is practically required. There are 3 kinds of beer in Cusco: Cusco Red, Cusco White, and Cusco Black. We try all three.

Just as dusk is settling and our beers are settling, we decide that it’s a good time to purchase pair of brightly colored shoes from a street vendor. I am already in love my new shoes. 

Next on the agenda is dinner. There are restaurants everywhere and we end up in one of many cafés with a pre-fix menu. I have a stuffed avocado, beef saltado, and banana juice. The avocado is great, the beef is a little tough, and the juice is just weird. Laura is forced into eating more veggie pasta. I really do feel bad for the vegetarians in this part of the world.

After dinner, we wander around briefly but ultimately end up at a place called the “wine and couch bar”. It’s funny how the farther you travel from home the more you cling to what you know. Laura beats me at scrabble over a glass of warm, spiced wine. It feels like our college days. 

Eventually, we go back to our awesome hotel and ultimately to bed. It’s very difficult to sleep though. My lips remain chapped and nose continues to burn. I can feel each breath with great sensation and can’t stop focusing on it. I also get up to pee multiple times and feel bad that I am disturbing Laura. I am feeling worried about the altitude but assume that I’ll acclimate tomorrow. After all, I really have no choice. 

Where does this bus go? It doesn’t matter.

Sunday, August 24th, 2014

Lima, Peru

Around 10am I am waking up for a full day in Lima. As I slowly get ready for the day, I turn to Laura and ask what should we do in Lima. She has no idea and neither do I. In the planning frenzy to hike the Inca Trail we never actually considered doing anything in Lima. 

We know that Miraflores is the best neighborhood and that is where we are staying. We decide to walk to the beach and on the way, find a Starbucks. We stop and order large coffees in to-go cups. I feel grateful to find this comfort so far from home. 

Once we hit the beach, we end up at Larcomar, which is a big shopping center, on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. It is beautiful and located next to a dog park, where basically everyone has a standard-sized schnauzer. Admittedly it looks slightly like parts of the westside of LA, but it’s filled with schnauzers… so I am happy. It looks nothing like Texas… so Laura is happy too.

We eat breakfast at a place called Mango Café. Laura suggests that we order a cocktail called pisco sour with breakfast. It’s five o’clock somewhere, so I agree this is a good idea. A pisco sour is basically a margarita with pisco, a liquor made from grapes. It tastes okay, but it’s definitely sour. For food, I order the potato omelet and fresh bread. Laura orders veggie pasta, which will be the first of many… being a vegetarian in South America is not easy. The food does not disappoint, even paired with the pisco sours. The Peruvians really know how to cook and will prove it over and over again throughout this trip.

After breakfast, we wander around for a little bit. The view is nice, but there’s really not much else to do. As if on cue, a tour bus sort of appears in our path. At first, we walk past it and then after a few seconds turn back to investigate. The bus is parked and there is no visible guide handing out flyers or selling tickets. There is also no sign.

Clearly, we need to get on this bus.

As we approach a woman appears and sells us tickets. I halfheartedly ask where the bus goes but don’t understand what she says. It doesn’t matter though, there is nothing else to do and we are getting on this bus

Eventually, the bus takes off and we are treated to intermittent English explanations amongst longer and apparently funnier Spanish explanations of the passing sights. I gather that we are passing one of the very few pre-Incan ruins and that we will soon stop in Barranco. Barranco is an adorably hip neighborhood in Lima with cafes, old buildings, open markets, and beautiful views. We find ourselves following a guide in an orange vest on a walking tour. This is the first time that either of us has been on a walking tour, and honestly, it feels a little touristy. We are eventually herded back onto the bus and driven to the next stop.

Had we been paying attention when we purchased the bus ticket, we would have known that the next stop is Peruvian catacombs. While the tombs of wealthy religious and political figures in Europe are basically creepy… the tombs Lima are definitely creepy. For starters, there are no tombs, only the combined graves of the middle class who were sold false burial plots underneath the church. Instead of dedicating burial plots to the families who purchased them, the church basically crammed as many bodies as they could in the basement over the course of the years. Eventually, they made the excessively nefarious decision to catalog the bones by separating them into bins of similar varieties. As a bus tourist we are able to view these bins.

In addition to the catacombs, we visit a monastery, the church on top of the catacombs, and see the outside of the presidential palace. Around 5pm, the bus tour is complete.

In Lima, 5pm is the hour where all of the cute schnauzers go in for the night and all of the cute cats come out. Lima is overrun with tame, well-fed, clean stray cats. I even find a cat that looks like my cat back home. I shamelessly chase him around taking as many photos as I can get. 

For dinner, we find a quaint café on a side street with a good menu and an overzealous host. He promises us an outside table, tasty food, and a “romantic” atmosphere. Laura and I insist that romance is not a requirement… nonetheless he gives us his best table.

For dinner, I order the chicken relleno, which includes cream cheese and it is amazing. Laura orders a veggie casserole and we both rave about the food.

After dinner, we wander around aimlessly for the rest of the night. Alternating between petting stray cats and ordering beer in various pubs. We end the evening at a late-night deli, which also serves beer and dessert. Here, I order my first churro ever! Actually, I decide to order two – one stuffed with dulce de leche and the other with chocolate. They are great and pair surprisingly well with the beer.

Around midnight we head back to our hotel. We have an early flight to Cusco… its T- 2 days until we hike the Inca Trail!

Whatever you do, don't get in that cab.

Saturday, August 23rd, 2014.

Los Angeles, California and Lima, Peru

It’s 6am and I am waking up in Los Angeles, California. It’s time to get ready for my 9:30am flight to Lima, Peru. This trip has been planned for almost 9 months and I am already feeling nervous and excited. 

At 7:15am I arrive at the LAX airport. The entire upper level is closed and all traffic is being re-routed to the pickup area. The flight leaves in 2 hours and I am starting to get worried. Eventually, I get to the Tom Bradley International terminal wave goodbye to my driver. 

Despite the delay, I have plenty of time before my flight so I wander over to Marmalade Café to eat a little breakfast. After careful examination of the menu, I decide to order the American Breakfast, consisting of scrambled eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. I have a long day of traveling ahead and not sure when I’ll be able to eat again; I eat every bite and finish it off with 2 full cups of coffee. 

Next, I stop off at the currency exchange booth to switch out my American dollars for Peruvian Soles. I ask for small bills, but the attendant is barely able to accommodate my request. There’s just one more stop now, for 2 liters of water, meant to last until tomorrow morning.

When I finally board the flight, I am amazed at the accommodations. I’m treating myself to business class for the first time and I can already tell that I’ll never go back. The seat lays completely flat and the attendant brings an endless stream of little bottles of water - I even pocket a few for later.  

Eventually, I land in Atlanta and my next flight is delayed by almost 3 hours. I scramble to get a message to Laura, my longtime friend, and travel buddy, but I’m are sure that she is already in the air.

It’s 2am Central Time before I officially land in Lima. There are armed guards everywhere along with a parade of police dogs, which do not look very friendly. I quickly find my bag and make it through customs. I find Laura in the arrivals hall and am so happy that she waited for me!

The pick-up area is overrun with aggressive cab drivers. We look for the driver with our names on a card. We booked a car service from the hotel and are honestly a little scared of getting into an unverified cab at 3am in Peru. We can not find the driver anywhere and eventually we give up. We hop into the first unmarked vehicle we see and are ceremoniously overcharged for the trip. Now we’ve been initiated into Peru!

The drive to the hotel is through a rough part of town. We sit silently for the 30-minute trip. The driver drops us off in an ally way and points to the door to the hotel. We both sigh in relief.

It’s a little past 4am and I am finally laying in my hotel bed. I am completely exhausted and the sound of car horns is incessant. Eventually, I drift to sleep.